Mass Reflect: Citadel Times
by AcidSerra
Summary: I'm trapped on Zakera ward twenty years before the games take place... But I'm not sitting idle. Doesn't mean I'm saving the galaxy either. At least not yet. - Expect a slow burn, but I will be connecting it to the major game characters... eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Mass Effect IP, that belongs to EA/Bioware and any others with a legal claim.

* * *

I stare out the window of my apartment in Zakera ward. There's a decent view down to street level and of the various alien races milling about. Blue skinned Asari slip through the crowd with grace while grey skinned Elcor parade through the gaps the crowd leaves around them. A Quarian pick-pocket slides around working a crowd of Turians arguing over the price of some kind of dextro-based fruit.

_Why are the only Quarians I ever see pick-pockets?_ The game was pretty sympathetic to them, but the reality seems to reinforce the stereotype… _Be the better woman,_ I remind myself, _don't judge the whole species by the few you've seen personally._ There's a beep from my iWatch, that's my own nickname for it since I can't pronounce the overwrought name the Volus manufacturer gave it.

A quick look tells me it's noon station time. I can't ignore the small calendar date in the corner, as much as I wished I could. January sixth, 2161. Over twenty years before the first game. Shepard is maybe five or six years old. Not that it matters. There isn't any logical reason I'd be a part of the early stages of the Reaper War. I'm not anybody important. Just out of place. My eyes finally settle on the thirty one tally marks I'd made in the watch's surface.

I reach over to pick up the pistol sitting on the nightstand and rest my chin on the blocky barrel. A quick twitch and I'd be dead. I run my finger over the trigger, idly wondering if the minute pressure would be enough for a misfire. Finally I simply let my finger rest on the trigger, my whole world becoming the microcosm of that one little finger. Pull… Don't pull… Pull… Don't pull… Einey, meenie, miney… I slide the gun into my leg holster chicken shit to the end.

Anyways I have a job to do, bills to pay and all that. I pick up my jacket and walk out the door. My neighbor, a Turian named Soleia, is walking out of her apartment at the same time. There is a tense silence between us as she adjusts her C-Sec jacket meaningfully. "Another beautiful day, eh Soleia?"

She glares at me a moment before responding, "I'm sure it is."

We both start walking at the same time, it's awkward but neither of us really wants to be the one to stop. Instead it looks like we're walking together in lockstep and that just makes both of us even more uncomfortable. Finally we're aboard the elevator and can at least stand on opposite sides from each other. Not wanting to show my nerves I decide to speak, "so how's work going?"

"Fine, fine. It's always rewarding to send some scum to holding… where they _belong_." She makes a big show of the word belong, present company is included I guess. "How about you?"

"Oh, it's okay I guess. Never know what the day is going to bring, keeps me on my toes." I roll my shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. "And so little paperwork! I tell you it's a dream come true."

The door to the lobby opens and we both stare at it waiting for the other to move first. "Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but…" I say and walk out first. I can feel her silent glare at my back all the way to the door and beyond. Only after I'm truly lost in the crowds of the wards does the feeling dissipate.

* * *

I'm sitting in a dingy bar booth with a couple Turians and an Elcor trying not to laugh at how out of sorts the boss looks. Well it's hard to tell when an Elcor is out of sorts, but it's all in the eyes I assure you.

Xenyn was big, even for an Elcor, but the booths here were special built to accommodate Elcor seating. It isn't the most comfortable arrangement for anyone else though. It's like sitting across from a tank while also being stuck in a dollhouse that's slightly too large for the dolls.

"Pleased, Laura, my good luck charm. It is good to see you." He says. "Reassured, everything goes so well when you are involved."

I laugh, not quite keeping the bitterness out of it. All three give me a hard look, but I wave it off. "That's why I get the hard jobs, now what's up?"

"Concerned, one of my suppliers is not… playing nice. Angry, he is trying to fuck me over. I do not like that. If I do not like that, you do not like that. Understated, you know what I mean."

I nod, "sure, sure. I get it. So who is this bosh'tet?" Quarian swear words, always sure to please your underworld non-human friends, collect the whole set.

"A Volus named Jahn Olar, he was in charge of the reprocessing operation down by the seven hundred block." The Turian in yellow next to me, Salasar I think his name is, says, "I assume you know how to get there?"

I don't bother reassuring him and just stand up to leave.

"Concerned, try not to go too hard on him. Jahn used to be a friend…" He reminds me.

I turn back for a moment, "No promises, but I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

I rent myself a small hotel room close to the operational area. Muttering to myself about shitty customer service I sit down on the bed and pull out a small injector. They're advanced enough these days to not have a needle, so instead it just looks like a test tube filled with liquid. This particular injector has the words SAVE POINT hand written along its length. I spare a smile for the bad joke.

Without giving myself time to dwell on it I jab the tube into my skin and feel the prick as it forces its contents into my bloodstream. Anyone else in this dive would be bouncing off the walls after shooting up with something. I'm not anyone else.

My vision swims and the tension in my muscles releases of its own accord. I barely have time to fully lie down before I'm out.

* * *

The best and worst part of my job is the unpredictability. There's always a new situation, always something that I've not been expecting. The underworld of the wards is a surprisingly complicated place at the best of times. Surprisingly deadly at worst. Makes it hard to say what really counts as normal though.

Finding my target dead in the middle of his shop is definitely not normal. I have to take a second to muse over what I should do. I can run away from the scene now, or play amateur hour CSI… right time to run. I take a quick look around me at the darkened interior with its blue hued metal walls. No other way out than the way I came in, got to make this quick then.

I run to the door and try to slide out of it without looking overly conspicuous. "Freeze." I look up at the pair of C-Sec officers standing outside with their weapons drawn. The door is in a narrow alleyway, no way I hadn't noticed these guys when I was going in unless… Well it isn't the first time I've been caught in some kind of trap. The only question was whose trap was this exactly.

"Right, nothing for it. I surrender." I raise my hands above my head, palms out to show I'm unarmed. "So… was this an anonymous tip or do I have a private benefactor?"

The mandibles of the officer to my right clack as he gives a cold chuckle. "It's really too bad you had to resist us." I raise an eyebrow, but keep quiet. _He hasn't fired yet._ "Well, not so bad for somebody, but that's just how this city goes."

Now the shots came, three shots from each of them tear through my torso. The pain is intense and searing, like having lava punched through me. Breathing becomes tricky since my lungs are almost definitely punctured; it makes breathing even more painful than getting shot had been. Even worse I can almost feel the blood flood into my lungs.

I can barely feel myself falling backwards into a sitting postion, but there is no way to keep standing with this much pain. My arms fall by my legs, but this is more intentional on my part. There's a moment where I'm not sure if I'll stay conscious. It passes.

"Internal Affairs, drop your weapons!" The new voice is cold and professional, and I can swear I recognize it from somewhere. Both of the Turians turn towards it. Too bad for them I was dying, not dead. Despite the strained shaking of my hand I pull my pistol and shoot. I catch the back one in the face and his skull contents splatter across the wall behind him. Wish I hadn't been aiming for his friend's chest though.

There is another stream of lava as the friend recovers, shooting me in my neck this time. The pain is so overwhelming I can't keep hold of my gun, and the force of the shot is enough to knock me down into a laying position. It's over for me. All I can do now is silently watch my last moments in the world play out. At least I have the satisfaction of seeing that bastard's chest explode into the wall from a shotgun blast.

Soleia stalks into my view and looks down at me with something approximating pity. _Fuck, you're actually kind of beautiful_… I wish I could say it out loud. Then the pain finally ends.

* * *

I sit up with a start and bring my hand up to my neck in search of the wound. There isn't one… of course there isn't one. I take a look at the small hotel room around me to get my bearings. My eyes finally settle on the discarded injector.

Without getting out of bed I look down at my iWatch and scratch another tally mark into its surface.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Mass Effect IP, that belongs to EA/Bioware and any others with a legal claim.

* * *

There are few sights in life I find more existentially depressing than a public park on a giant space station. In a sense they're a lot like the parks you see in big cities, some grass, some trees, not enough to make you forget. No chance of hiding the view of the residential towers. Lots of people, but up above it all is just a view of more wards and the purple and pink nebula clouds. It's not nature; just a lot of people trying forget it's not nature.

I take a drag of nicotine laced water-vapor. It's not smoking, not like I was used to, but the Systems Alliance has a strong control over the shipment of actual cigarettes. Without a real base of human settlement here on the Citadel I was probably lucky to even find this technological knock-off. Not that I'm complaining. There's something decidedly convenient about not leaving butts everywhere.

I tap a spot at the base of my jaw and say out loud, "Citadel Security, Internal Affairs office." The subcutaneous transponder takes care of the rest, connecting the call. That's a bit hard to come by too, but it's not uncommon to get a bit of outer edge mil-tech when you work for the right people.

"Internal Affairs, how may I direct your call?" It's a Turian, I can hear it in the voice plain as day. Not too unpleasant, though, if you like that tenor range rumble they all seem to have.

"I need to get in touch with an agent named Soleia Solvus. It's about a case she's working on," I say. My eyes scan the crowd carefully picking out the tell-tale blue of C-Sec. I'd never exactly seen them as friends before, but right now they all looked like enemies. They all looked like death, and thirty-two was enough for me.

"May I ask who's calling?" He says.

"No." I decide to leave it at that.

"Alright, I'll try to connect you but I can't guarantee anything without knowing who you are." He tells me.

"Fine." It's not worth the effort if it doesn't go through. Besides, I see my target bumbling into the park now. Jahn doesn't know who I am. I only told him I'd call him after he was in the park. Might as well let him sweat a little while. I slide my eyes from C-Sec officer to C-Sec officer looking for someone a little too interested in the Volus. There is a part of me that needs to know just how deep this really goes. Nobody's taking the bait though.

"Agent Solvus, Internal Affairs," her voice is cold… and low.

"I'm not interrupting you in the field, am I?" I ask with a grin I know she can hear.

"Laura… what the hell are you doing calling me like this?" She asks. Okay, now I think she's angry.

"I need to talk to you about a case, that's all. Something to do with… a friend of mine… and some little league hitmen on the inside." I talk quickly, but calmly.

"Alright so talk," she says, definitely angry.

"There's a couple Turians, work down by the seven hundred block. They probably got a good bit of money in their accounts recently from unknown sources." I think for a moment and decide to test out a theory. "And I'm pretty sure they have a certain internal affairs agent tailing them."

She swore in three different languages. "How do you know where I am!"

"I didn't but thanks for the info," I say. I can't help an amused chuckle as she throws out an even longer string of expletives.

"Point is I think they've got a hit out on someone and I need to know who ordered it." I say.

"I can't talk about an open investigation with the general public and certainly not with you." She replies.

"I'm hurt. What's so wrong with me?" I ask.

"Do I really have to answer that?" She asks.

"Look, maybe we can talk about this later… I can treat you to dinner somewhere," I offer.

"Oh, so now you're threatening to poison me when you don't get your way?" She sniffs in contempt.

I laugh, "You know that's not what I meant. We're at the Asari-Turian mating capital of the galaxy. I know there are some good places that serve both palates around here."

"Right, so you're really expecting me to believe you can speak Asari. I never figured you for having that much class." She says.

"Oh I don't, that's what translators are for." I bite back.

"Where are you?" She suddenly asks.

"Just sitting in a park, enjoying the view," I say. I watch the nervous Volus sliding around from person to person trying not to draw too much attention while he searches for his appointed rendezvous. Another drag from the cig and life is pretty good. Now if only I can get Soleia to agree to this date…

"Get out of there. Now." Her voice is pure steel and it makes the pit of my stomach drop. She's definitely serious about this. I stand and take a few steps. Suddenly there's a deafeningly loud bang from just inside my ear and I drop to my knees in pain.

"The fu-" I'm cut off by the sight of Jahn exploding in a shower of gore. Volus are definitely uglier on the inside. There's a second explosive sound and I roll hard to my left. An Asari jogger who just ran past me is cut in two by a localized explosion. Her dark blood rains down in a warm shower.

Shaking off the shock of my near death moment I get up and run flat out. My connection to Soleia is still open and it's her voice that keeps me company as I sprint away from the park. "Internal Affairs, freeze! Don't even think about it fucker." There's a brief exchange of shots echoing within my ear, and then a prolonged moment of silence. "You really want to go for it? Go ahead, join your friend." Sounds like she has it well in hand.

Finally back in the crowds of the Ward's main streets I feel more comfortable. Well, comfortable may be an overstatement. I'm sweating, and my breath is ragged as fuck, not to mention this sticky sweetness that I'm pretty sure is Asari juice. But at least I don't feel completely exposed. I can finally get a look around me to see if any C-Sec followed me out.

There's a thud within my ear. "Soleia?" No answer. Subcutaneous transmitters have the distinct problem that they don't really catch sound outside of the person very well. Things like gunshots are loud enough to carry, but not casual conversations.

"Get her legs!" Shouted conversations seem to work though. The connection cuts with a loud hiss.

I grab a random Asari out of the crowd and pull her to the side. "Listen to me, this is a life or death matter. I need you to call C-Sec and report that someone has attacked an agent named Soleia Solvus." I give her a serious look directly in the eyes. She looks back with equal seriousness.

"Soleia Solvus was the name and she's been attacked. Where is this?" The woman asked thankfully playing along. Of course it occurs to me that my still warm Asari entrails may be having an impact on her.

"I don't know exactly. Somewhere with a view of the park." I put my hands on her shoulders, "Can I count on you for this?"

She nods, "yes… And who should I say you are?"

I release her and am already sliding off into the crowd before I call back, "Laura Faust!"

* * *

My hotel room is thankfully unmolested. A quick shower and a change of clothes and I'm good as new. I reach under the mattress and pull out the armband style bandolier that has all of my 'save points' in it. A few seconds of fidgeting and I have it in place on my left arm where it belongs.

I count the totals of the credit chits I have on hand and find the result bleak. Any other job I would have considered it enough, not this time. There's a suspicion forming in my gut and I do not like where it's going.

Finally certain I have everything in order I check the news feeds to see if the park has made headlines yet. Instead I'm greeted by a confirmation of my worst suspicions. Six dead in a bar bombing. I already know which bar just from the picture. Looks like I'm alone from here out.

That's alright, I'm used to it. Besides, I already have some idea who the fucker with the sniper rifle is. Assuming he was one of the Turians who gunned me down outside Jahn's shop there's really only one place he could have gotten a rifle of that high of grade.

* * *

"Beta, my boy, how's it going?" I ask, grabbing the Salarian's arms and pinning them to the counter before he can escape.

"Laura. Leave. I've got nothing for you here." He says in clipped sentences.

"Nothing for me, but you had something for your new friends. Something long and shiny with a great. big. barrel." I'm not sure if the Salarian even understands double entendre, but it isn't really for him at this point.

He twitches and does his best to look away, scanning the crowds. "Please. Laura. If they even think I told you anything, I'm already dead. Just leave me alone. Don't drag the rest of us down with you."

"At least give me some hint who they are. I don't even know how deep in it I am here, Beta." I say.

"Deep. Real deep. That's all I can tell you." He says finally looking me in the eye.

I nod to myself. "Well… then I guess I'm almost sorry about this." The almost apology is my only sacrifice to politeness as I twist both his fingers back breaking them. If I were a common thug this would be the question and answer segment. I'm not a common thug.

Ignoring his cries of distress I pull his arm over to my side of the counter keeping a firm grip on his fingers. The pain is almost enough to knock him off his feet… but it doesn't so I don't worry about. I just activate his omni-tool so I can get a good look at his recent finances. Beta is smart. Smart enough to keep most of his books off-site, but that sniper rifle they'd used is a recent purchase. I take a moment to record the relevant account number into my iWatch then release him.

He falls to the floor almost immediately whimpering something about his own imminent death. I ignore him as I leave. I have a lot to do and not enough time to coddle every prick I'm going to have to fuck to get it done.

I'm brought up short as I'm passing a reflective surface. My own reflection always startles me these days. My face is hard edged and my eyes are ringed with the dark purple that marks me as an insomniac. The eyes themselves are always what surprise me the most though. They aren't the eyes of someone who'd grown up in eternal sun and summer. They are the eyes of someone who'd just broken fingers as a shortcut to information.

_I don't have time for this shit,_ I think and continue on my way.

* * *

**A/N: **I've had to really tighten things up in my mind after playing Extended Cut, but I now have a coherent plot covering all the way till the end of ME3's epilogue. I'll need to tweak some of the earlier plot arcs to make them more reflective of the overall theme, but I don't think it's caused any serious problems.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hmm, I like this one. Does it come in purple though?" I ask the Asari behind the counter. I'm fairly certain it does. Asari just love purple.

While the counter girl is distracted I take a moment to get a good look at the shoppers around me. Most of them are Asari, making my job harder, but so far none of them have the look of another professional. So far it seems like all of them are just normal debutantes looking to buy obscenely overpriced dresses.

"Yes we have that in stock. Would you like to try it on?" The maiden behind the counter asks. There's also this suggestive wiggle to her eyebrows that tells me she's flirting with me.

"Yes, I think I will. Thank you," I tell her and let her guide me back to the changing rooms.

I grew up on a healthy diet of Bond movies and CSI. In those someone would get an account number or some other identifying item and before you know it the intel department or the database spits out all the info on your enemy you'd ever want. Of course, being a small time criminal, I don't have vast intelligent services and comprehensive databases.

Lucky for me, I don't have to. The information I took off Beta's omni-tool was more than a simple account number. It was a specialized access route specifically authorized for releasing money. Even then that wouldn't normally be more than a one-shot thing, but the software required to enhance that into a full credit line is dirt cheap. After all, who worries about identity theft when security can catch you practically before you leave the store?

Then again, most of those people don't have an illegal arms purchase sitting just up their purchase history.

"Let me know if you need any help with anything," the maiden offers as she directs me into a small changing room. I give her a warm smile and slip inside, locking the door behind me.

The dress is everything I'd hoped it would be. Comfortable, a bit revealing, and just long enough to hide my pistol without denying me access. That it's a beautiful work of art with its curving flower brocade and svelte lines is just a bonus. Add in a price tag that's going to draw my enemy's apparently considerable ire and I couldn't really ask for more.

With a final check to make certain my gun is completely hidden from view, I open the door and beckon over the sales woman. "I'll take it. Can I get a bag for my other clothes though?"

"Certainly!" She says with a happy smile. I can't help appreciating the pleasant sway of her derriere as she bustles off to get a bag. Right now a large part of me wants to stick around and enjoy some pleasant company for a change. The rest of me reminds me that it'd be suicide and get her in as much trouble as I'm already facing.

* * *

So my tail is Asari… That's not good. In and of itself that isn't entirely unexpected. The three main council races also contribute the most to the criminal underworld. Still Asari tend to have had longer to polish their skills and network making them somewhat rarer in the grunt work side of things.

Of course, I'm not lucky enough to get some street runner Asari tailing me. No she's wearing a yellow jacket. A yellow jacket with white trim in fact. This… is a whole new level of not good.

The big three merc operations don't usually operate on the citadel, at least not this far from the docks. A few bribes can get heavy weapons and armor out to the warehouses and some docks can be left to the users to patrol for a time. The wards on the other hand have none of that. No heavy weapons. Period. Street smarts and a decent pistol are order of the day around here. They don't have any way to disable amps though, and an Asari biotic will wipe the floor with anything less than a Krogan.

I consider myself somewhat less than your average Krogan, for comparison's sake.

My only real plan for dealing with biotic assassins was to avoid getting their attention in the first place. Well, I fucked that one right up. So instead my eyes scan the crowd and the storefronts around us looking for some chance of escape. Thus far nothing is forthcoming.

My eyes drift between a large group of Turians up the street and a Quarian hawking shawls by the side of the road. I play out scenarios in my mind as a plan slowly comes together. Finally I stop at the shawl vendor and play for time. It's all going to rest on the timing.

I complete my purchase of a shawl just as the Turians are passing me. My first move is to hunch over slightly and move with them blocking the line of sight between myself and my tail. I lower the shawl down to my waist and pretend to examine it as I slip my gun from the holster.

A flash of yellow behind me informs me that I've passed my tail's position. Keeping low I flow through the crowd and right up behind the Asari as she twists this way and that looking for me in the crowd. She finally stills when I press the barrel of my pistol directly into her back.

"Don't give me an excuse to shoot. Even kinetic barriers won't make a difference at this range," I warn her. She glares at me out of the corner of her eye, but doesn't move. "Let's keep walking, nice and natural now."

We walk in silence for a few moments before she finally speaks up, "You have no idea who you're fucking with."

"Well I know you're an Eclipse Sister. I'm not completely stupid. But if you mean who you're working for… You know, I'd rather like to know who that is," I tell her.

"You stole money from the Shadow Broker. Don't expect to walk away from this one," She tells me. I almost fumble my next step, but manage to regain my poise without the pistol sliding from its position at the small of her back. "And besides, you've already made your fatal mistake."

"And what's that?" I can't help asking.

She turns her head to face me completely, "You forgot that Asari are more than just Biotics. EMBRACE ETERNITY!"

* * *

_My mother walks into the room. I run up to her and hug her leg. "Oh there you are, my little songbird!"_

_ Suddenly my hands are wet and I pull them away. Purple blood drips from my hands. "Why did you kill me, my little singbird?"_

_ I scream. I scream until my lungs are hoarse and then I scream some more. Suddenly I'm wearing yellow and white armor and throwing around Batarians with my biotics. I'm the only one in the room with the captain. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" She eloquently screams as her purple essence spills across the floor. "Goddess! I need to get back to the ship! I can still get through this!"_

_ I sneer and turn my gun on her, "fuck that. It's your own damn fault for being so weak." Before she can form a response I fire. A tiny hole blossoms in her forehead and the ground behind her blooms into an abstract painting of grey and indigo. I get back to the ship but find out that I'm still passed over for promotion to captain. Fucking bullshit._

_ The message plays and I feel my stomach dropping out as I listen. "-ere is no future for us. You know that. I won't just wait around on Thessia while you go gallivanting around half the galaxy trying to get yourself killed." I ball my fists and the tears slowly gather at the corners of my eyes. I want to hate her, to act out, to scream. But I just can't. It just hurts and this time I'm too tired to get worked up about it._

_ There's a picture on my omni-tool, it looks familiar for some reason. "So this is the target? Doesn't look like much." I say. "Heh. Humans are new but they're pretty weak. Standard op, you'll tail her while we set up a kill zone ahead of her," My captain says. I nod but stare at the picture. There really is something strangely familiar about it…  
Oh yeah. It's me._

* * *

I stumble and collapse to the street. My mind is reeling and I'm practically dry heaving while my mind spins. "What the fuck was THAT!" I choke out.

"Oh, fuck…" A voice beside me says. I turn my head to see wide green eyes staring back at me. Belatedly I recall the gun in my hand and begin to raise it. With inhuman speed and grace she's back on her feet and diving into the crowd.

For a few seconds I can only blink in surprise, my mind still sluggish from the… mind rape… or whatever the fuck that was. My nerves feel like they're stuck wide open. The pavement biting into my hand as I lift myself is all too vivid against the fuzziness of my mind. Still I manage to make it vertical and stumble off to a side alley. They'll find me again soon. I need to get out of here.

A few minutes later I stumble across a transit station. Without looking I flick a destination from the list and stumble into the waiting car, collapsing across the seat. The last thing I remember is the feeling of the vehicle ascending beneath me, and then everything goes black.


End file.
